


AFTER THE STILLNESS

by Miss_AJR



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fallen Angel Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:47:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27829222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_AJR/pseuds/Miss_AJR
Summary: This short fic is inspired by Be Still, My Love, Be Still by entanglednow.Crowley disappears during that story.  I wanted to find out what happened to him and how he returned.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	AFTER THE STILLNESS

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Be Still, My Love, Be Still](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23871301) by [entanglednow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow). 



"I love you," Crowley says quietly. It's the very first time he's said it. Curled around Aziraphale’s sleep-paralysed body, he shivers with the aftershocks of the orgasm he has just experienced. It was like nothing he had ever done before and left him weak and breathless. Suddenly he stiffened. He couldn’t take the words back. But he didn’t want to – it was true. He was in love with this angel who had given him a home, and loved him unconditionally, despite the fact he was a demon. He sighs and turns to face the soft muscle of Aziraphale's chest.

"I love you so much, angel, and you deserve so much better than this." He means it, even though it hurts him to say it. He felt guilty at taking such pleasure from this beautiful human when he didn't deserve it.

There is a jolt and Crowley cries out and he suddenly realises he has left it too long. He shouldn’t have stayed to love his angel just a few moments more. He doesn't have the strength to hold the two of them any longer. He discorporates, and the last thing he hears is Aziraphale calling his name...

\--------------------------------------------------

When Crowley awakes, there is a thick fog around the room he is in. As he sits up carefully, he notices he is in a cage. It is filthy. Animal droppings litter the floor, and mould and mud streak everything. He recognises the stench of Hell, hears the noise of the tortured souls in the other cages. He hears keys and turns to find Hastur standing at the cage door.

“Crowley” he grinned nastily “Long time no see”.

“Hastur, what’s going on?” asked Crowley.

“You fell Crowley. Again. You got too comfortable up there didn’t you?” growled Hastur.

“How long have I been here?” asked Crowley

“About a week”

A whole week! Crowley can’t bear to think of Aziraphale, alone in the empty bookshop, wondering what had happened. Will he still pour wine for him? Will he still read him books, in the hope Crowley will return?

“You need to see them” said Hastur, unlocking the cage. Crowley knows he means Beelzebub. He steps out the cage and follows Hastur along a dingy corridor. His long red hair trails along behind him, lifeless in this environment.

They reach the main throne room, and the Duke of Hell sits in their throne, surrounded by various demons. Crowley recognises Dagon and Ligur.

“The Demon Crowley, how nizzze of you to join uzzzz” sneers Beelzebub.

“Lord Beelzebub” nods Crowley.

“We’ve been watching you Crowley” stated Dagon “You’ve not been doing your job very well. Only one human in the last 6 months?”

Crowley can’t speak, picturing Aziraphale in his mind.

“We’ve dezzzided to relocate you Crowley” said Beelzebub “We will find you somewhere you can be more... effective”.

“NO!” Crowley cried out. Dagon looks astonished.

“Are you refusing the order of Lord Beelzebub?”

“Please, I need to get back there” replied Crowley.

“What izzzz it that makes you so keen to return” asked Beelzebub.

“The human. He.... needs me” stated Crowley, his head bent downwards.

There is a long pause.

“Do you have...feelings for this human?” asked Beelzebub. Another pause, then Crowley finally nods.

“Demons don't get to change their nature, Crowley!” shouted Beelzebub.

“I know, but please, I’ll do whatever it takes” begged Crowley. Another long pause.

“I will conzzzzider it. Lock him up” said Beelzebub, waving Crowley away.

Hastur pulls him away and Crowley follows him back to the cage where he is locked up again. He knows there is no point in trying to escape – the cages of hell are not designed that way. He sits on the hard bench and for the first time he feels tears sliding down his face. He pictures his angel, and a fleeting thought enters his head, a whisper he sensed on one of the previous occasions he had been intimate with Aziraphale. _Tell me you've wanted this as much as I have_. He groans at the memory of touching a silent Aziraphale, feeling him beneath him as far as he was able. He had thrown himself on the mercy of Lord Beelzebub, now he could only wait.

\----------------------------------------------------------

It was another week before Beelzebub summoned him. Crowley remained despondent, reliving every moment he had had with Aziraphale. But it was getting harder. The longer he remained in Hell the further the memory faded.

He was removed from the cage and led to the throne room by Hastur. Beelzebub again sat on the throne, waiting.

“The Demon Crowley” they sneered.

“Lord Beelzebub” Crowley replied, looking at them.

“We have come to a decizzzion” they said slowly. “We will grant you permission to return to Earth. But you know the rulezzzz Crowley. You must give something in return.”

“Anything” replied Crowley quickly, his heart beating wildly.

“Once you are returned, there is no way back” Crowley nodded. “So, we will take the one thing you cannot keep. Your hair.” Crowley gasped. His hair was his pride. He loved how long it was, and how much Aziraphale had admired it too. But this meant he could return to him.

“I accept” he said.

“We will remove your hair one cut at a time, one cut per day.” added Beelzebub.

Crowley nearly sobbed. That meant it would take weeks to remove his long flowing locks! But he could do it. He would do it – for Aziraphale.

He was returned to the cage, and later Ligur came to him with a huge pair of scissors. He took a handful of Crowley’s red hair and hacked at it, close to the scalp. The scissors must have been nearly blunt as it took him a long time to cut through it. When he finally did it, he stepped back and held up the long strands in front of Crowley’s face, grinning evilly. He left, re-locking the cage. Crowley accepted his punishment and just sat on the bench, trying to keep the angel in his mind.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

It had been fifty six days since he had returned to Hell. Every day Ligur or Hastur came with the blunt scissors and hacked a chunk of his hair away. Finally, there was one last piece left. He waited impatiently, and Hastur arrived to deliver the final cut. As soon as it was made, Crowley stood up.

“I’m ready” he said

“Now?” said Hastur

“Now!” stated Crowley.

“I’ll ask them” said Hastur. He left, and then returned shortly and collected Crowley to bring him to the throne room. Beelzebub was there, this time standing next to a column of fire.

“Crowley” they said. Crowley noticed they dropped the title of Demon.

“Lord Beelzebub, I have done as you asked. I must ask you to fulfill your side of the agreement” he said.

“You understand you can never return?” Crowley nodded. “And what if this human has forgotten you, moved on?” Crowley shook his head. He knew, deep down, that would not happen. He could not bear to think if Aziraphale didn't want him any more. What if he been gone so long, that he didn’t wait? Would he still love him?

“Very well Crowley. You will be returned to the same location where you were taken. Step into the flamezzz.” Crowley took a deep breath, and with a last look at Beelzebub he stepped into the burning column.

He felt pain as his body was thrown upwards. Such pain, breath-taking pain. Then a jolt as he landed somewhere. He regained his breath, and slowly stood up. Checking himself over, he found there were no marks on his skin. He rubbed his hands over his short cropped hair and felt a brief pang of loss. He realised he was still only wearing the breeches and a filthy loose shirt he had been given in Hell. He had to make himself presentable. Then he had to find Aziraphale.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Crowley managed to find a homeless shelter who took him in. He didn’t know how to behave around other humans but they took his lack of social skills to be just part of his general demeanour. They gave him some clothing – some black jeans and a black top with some shoes. He discovered a pair of dark glasses in a bag and found they were a good way to hide his amber eyes, stopped people staring. He was offered food, but found he was not hungry. He did sleep, not something he was used to, as he realised he no longer he had any power for miracles and was surprisingly tired.

The next day, he left the shelter. He asked the people running the shelter if they knew of a bookshop, and gave them a description. They sent him in the direction of a shop called A Z Fell. Apparently, he donated food to the shelter regularly. Crowley had never known what the outside of the bookshop looked like, and approached with trepidation as he saw the sign above the shop he was looking for.

Standing outside, he looked at the window and noticed how dusty and untidy the display was. His heart broke, and he panicked that Aziraphale was no longer there.

He pushed the door and the bell jingled.

His breath nearly left him as he saw Aziraphale, reaching up to a shelf, slotting a book back where it belonged. He didn’t turn around.

"I'm afraid we're just closing. You'll have to come back tomorrow if you want something," he said.

"Aziraphale." Crowley said, his voice sounding not quite real. Aziraphale paused, the book halfway on the shelf, as he turned awkwardly to view the door.

Crowley looked at him, his angel, standing there in beige trousers and white shirt, sleeves pushed up, his blonde curls messy and unkempt. He sees the book slip from Aziraphale’s fingers and hit the ground with a ‘crump’. Crowley’s body aches as Aziraphale takes two steps forward, and he makes a noise in his throat that doesn’t seem human.

"Angel." He whispers, with a twist of his mouth. Aziraphale knocked over a stack of books which slid to the floor as he made his way past them towards the door. Crowley swayed towards him, helpless to do anything else. Aziraphale meets him halfway, reaches up and pulls at the bridge of Crowley’s sunglasses, looking into his eyes with such intensity and desire. He drops the glasses on the floor, and puts a hand on Crowley's face. Crowley leans into the touch, as Aziraphale strokes his cheek down to his jaw. He shudders and quietly collapses at the warmth of Aziraphale’s hand. _It means this is real!_

Before he can understand anything, Aziraphale is kissing him......

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING!! Comments, advice, crit and kudos always welcome. 
> 
> Do read the story this fic was influenced by. I hope it fits ok. I think I messed up on the grammar but...whatever! <3


End file.
